Letting go
by Chimeria
Summary: After Fred's Death, George finds himself more alone than ever. Who could help out better than Lee Jordan, his long-time friend and humorous idiot? George/Lee.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer_: Harry Potter characters and names belong to JK Rowling (Harry Potter Publishing rights).

Lee Jordan was more than suspicious when his sister took him to the living room to _talk_, away from their aunt with whom they had met up because she wanted to drink tea. Since they had both happened to be in the area, they had agreed, mostly because they expected to get some money off her.

He half-expected this "let's talk for a moment" thing to be a joke.

Last year Lillian had done the same thing, telling him with a sorry-to-break-it-to-you voice that Father Christmas didn't exist. He hadn't known whether to laugh or to cry.

Now, however, he had a very strange feeling in his stomach. Yet again, that was probably because it was definitely not a good idea to eat auntie's self-made cake.

"This can't be true, Lillian. Are you sure you haven't just misheard?"

His sister scowled. "How would you possible mishear a letter? It's not just some rumour. Percy Weasley wrote to me, that little creep, I can't imagine him lying about emergencies. I can't imagine him lying about anything other than his sexual orientation, to be precise."

"Percy? Why did he write to you of all people?"

"Don't look so shocked, he assumed I'd know where you'd be, and he wanted me to contact you and convince you to get your ass back to Britain."

"He actually wrote that?"

"No, but I read between the lines, you know. Between all that unnecessary politeness it seemed to be urgent. Even if just a little."

"Show me the letter, Lil."

Pouting a little, the woman began to search through her enormous backpack. Her dark hair fell into her eyes, even though it was cut so short she was often mistaken for a man. She did not seem to mind, though.

"Don't order me around like that, you git. I told you exactly what the freak wrote."

Her speech was about as ladylike as her appearance, after all.

After a few minutes, she finally found the letter. It was crumpled and dirty, but Lee expected no better from a woman who washed her hands only when she thought it necessary – in other words, once a year, mostly when getting ready for Christmas dinner. Lee tried hard not to keep a straight face and hide his disgust at the thought. He hated un-cleanliness. And no, that is not a word.

She handed him the letter, suddenly wearing a serious expression. "Listen, Lee, if what the snob wrote in this letter is true, you have to go back to England as soon as possible. I really like George, he shouldn't…"

"Shut it, Lil, I'll read this first. I won't believe this stuff unless I have proof." Lee tried very hard to suppress the gag reflex when he touched the soiled paper.

Lee Jordan read through the letter carefully, examining every word, every possible hidden meaning. His sister watched him expectantly from a nearby chair she had seated herself in.

After he had read the thing for the third time, he came to the conclusion that Percy Weasley was no man for jokes, and that this was possibly no prank. That it was possibly true.

He still did not want to believe this. George Weasley needed him? For what? Doing his laundry?

Maybe it had something to do with Fred's death. But that had been months ago… And George hadn't seemed unstable or ready to die or anything. He was sad, sure, they all were, but he still went on. He took a break from his job at the Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, but that was understandable, since he had lost his beloved partner, and who would be in the mood for jokes when their twin died?

Confused, Lee searched his mind for other reasons that could possibly make George Weasley need his help. Maybe he was out of ideas for joke articles, dead poor, a drug addict?

His sister kept on staring, waiting for him to decide. Since she wasn't the most patient woman on earth, she soon got bored and began humming under her breath. Which was very distracting, all things considered.

"Lil."

"What? Decided yet?"

"I'm trying to concentrate, imagine that."

"Don't try, it won't work."

Silence followed. Lee was too lost in his thoughts to think of a funny response.

"I don't know why you're still here."

"Lil."

"That's my name."

"I am still thinking."

"Dunno what you have to think about this long, there is a damsel in distress for you to save."

"Stop talking about this as if it isn't serious, Lillian Jordan."

"It is."

"Indeed."

"Then you should leave."

"Goddammit, woman, I am on the other side of the world! I don't know if I can just leave… won't be easy…"

"Ever heard of Apparition? Makes things very easy. You could also try floo powder, I heard it's really good."

Sighing, Lee started to think it would indeed be the best solution to go back to England just to end this discussion. One doesn't win an argument with his sister.

"I swore not to go back to England until I found a woman to marry and start a family with."

"You are 20 years old, you imbecile, you still have plenty of time. Besides, the woman who'd marry you still has to be born. Go back to England and save your friend, instead of following illusions of ever being able to have a girlfriend."

"Like you're one to talk, Lil."

"I _chose_ to stop dating. There's a difference."

"You never even started dating."

Pouting, Lillian Jordan stood up. "Whatever," she said, intelligent answer if you're not ready to face the truth. "I'm going to travel on. I want to arrive in Sydney soon, I don't have time to waste."

Lee looked up, surprised. He had expected his sister to stay until he knew what to do. Not that he wasn't relieved, but he probably wouldn't be seeing her for a long time. He would most likely miss her unnerving presence. It felt so familiar, it was comfortable.

"I'll keep the letter, if you don't mind."

"Go to England, git."

Seeing that she would be gone soon and that he would be left with the decision, he saw no other solution than to give in.

Sighing, Lee saw his dream of returning from a journey around the world with countless stories to tell and the most beautiful woman ever seen on the surface of this earth wave its goodbyes and leave to find someone else to haunt.

George was still George. His best friend. And one doesn't hold women over his best friends. If possible.

"Aye." The word tasted bitter on his lips.

He would kill George if this was just some joke. His dream was ending. Right now. This was a very tragic moment.

"Good. Very good. Take this floo powder and get it over with. You can still continue your journey after you've saved George from dying."

"It won't be the same anymore then."

"Maybe you should find a decent job instead of writing sappy romance novels for lonely hags. I imagine you'd attract far more chicks that way."

Not wanting to appear hurt by her comment, Lee took the tightly filled bag from her outstretched hand without looking at her and marched to the fireplace in the corner of the room.

"Thank you, Sissy. Will write you a letter."

"Spare me, dweeb."

"Tell Auntie I'm sorry and that I'll come back once things with George are settled."

"Tell her yourself, lazy bum."

"I always wondered why you get so emotional when we say goodbye. Possibly because you love me?"

"Piss off."

"Love you too."

Breathing in the last bit of Australian air, he stepped into the fireplace. Green flames surrounded him soon after he had dropped the powder.

"Ministry of Magic, London!"

The ministry greeted Jordan with _overwhelming_ noise. Stepping out of the fire, he needed some time to adjust to the new surroundings. It was unbelievably cold, even more so because he wore nothing but shorts and T-shirt. Maybe, just maybe, he should have broken his habit of charging right into a situation and brought a jacket. Freezing, he made his way to the lifts, hoping they'd be warmer. To his disappointment, they weren't.

Since Lee didn't really know which floor Percy Weasley worked on, or if he still worked here at all, he decided to visit Arthur instead. He was curious whether or not his wife still allowed him to work in the Department for Misuse of Muggle artifacts, so Lee asked the lift to bring him there. That didn't really work though, so he used the buttons instead. The ministry was so backwards.

It seemed to be really early in the morning since people were yawning all over the place and had coffee cups in their hands. He was the only one getting off at that particular floor and wondered if Arthur would already be working. Looking around, he saw nobody.

Sighing, he reviewed his own situation - He didn't know where Arthur's office was, he didn't know if the Arthur even worked here anymore, he didn't know what he was needed for, didn't know the time and was fucking freezing to death right now - And came to the conclusion that this had probably been his sister's plan to kill him from the beginning. Darn. He shouldn't have trusted her.

That very moment, a woman came out of an office and stopped to stare at him.

Not knowing what to say or do, Lee returned the favor and stared back.

Long seconds of silence passed.

"Don't stare at a lady like that," said the woman. She had an unpleasant voice. Probably a Slytherin.

"You started it."

"What's your problem?"

"I'm looking for Arthur Weasley. Could you help me out?"

"After you stared at me like that? No way."Defenitely a Slytherin.

This was why Lee did not get along with women. Or Slytherins. He just couldn't talk to them. Sighing, he began to search the office signs for Arthur's name. It was the second one he looked at, and it was the only bureau concerning the Misuse of Muggle artifacts. From the size of it, it could just as easily have been a storeroom. Already annoyed to death, he knocked. "Come in."

Thank God, that was Arthur's voice. Maybe he had a jacket or something. Or hot tea. Or chocolate. Or both.

Arthur seemed very relieved to see Lee. "Lee Jordan! Finally! We already gave up on you!"

"Never give up on a Jordan, Arthur, they may come out of the bushes any second."

"Where did you come from?" Arthur asked, looking at Lee's clothing. "Do you want some tea? You look as if you're about to drop dead from the cold. Blue lips and all."

"Directly from Australia, and yes, I would welcome some warming liquid. And I would also welcome more information about the reason I gave up my world journey?" He knew the last part sounded bitter, but he wanted to confront Arthur with what his son had done – After all, Percy had ruined his life-long dream. Lee wanted his father to know that. To be ashamed.

The man did not seem impressed at all though. He smiled weakly and waved his wand so that the tea began preparing itself.

"George." "Fred," answered Lee. It was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Exactly."

"What?"

"Without Fred, George doesn't want to continue the shop."

"And?"

"He doesn't want to continue anything else either."

Lee's brain was working hard, but he didn't really understand.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that George lost his will to live."

"I don't get it."

"He sits around in his flat whole day, … Doesn't talk to us anymore… Shut down any contacts he had, lost his friends… Doesn't let us in when we come to visit… To help. Doesn't want help."

"If he doesn't want help, what am I doing here?"

"We thought you could try to talk to him."

"What for?"

"Don't know, get him outside, get him to eat, whatever."

"How? I thought he doesn't let people come in?"

"You could try."

Lee made a sour face. He wasn't good at talking, he wasn't good at convincing, and certainly did no good with feelings other than those he described in his novels.

"I don't think that will work out…"

"We tried just about everything else to get him out already. Even tried to break in. He has a talent for good wards though, so no chance…"

Two cups of tea flew to the table, losing a bit of their contents on their way. Arthur didn't seem to notice that they left dozens of stains on his documents. Well, Arthur Weasley didn't really qualify as "overly hygienic" anyway.

Lee gulped the drink as fast as he could, burning his throat nicely. Warmth filled him, and he felt better by the second. To express his thanks for the tea, he nodded to Arthur.

"Lee. Please try. You're his best friend." God, couldn't he think of anything else?

… It was very convincing though. Sighing, Lee nodded.

"Fine. Once I finish my tea. Oh, and do you have a jacket? I don't want to go outside like this."

Weasley sent him a questioning look.

"Forgot to take one with me."

Sighing now, Arthur stood up and stripped off his own jacket. Lee was somehow very angry at himself. He had forgotten to bring his own jacket, now he had to wear Arthur Weasley's. The thing was probably washed once a year. If ever. Lee had a strange fetish for hygiene. His hands were always dry and ugly from all the washing and his hair was so shiny, it almost looked like Snape´s.

Arthur threw the piece of clothing into Lee's lap. He suddenly seemed very eager to get rid of it. Maybe he thought he could try to pretend he lost this one and get his wife to buy a new one. Heavens, that thing looked about as old as it smelled. Trying not to sniff at it, he stood up and put it on.

"Well then, goodbye."

"Thank you Lee. We're really counting on you."

Darn that Weasley for saying something like that. Lee knew he wouldn't be able to leave without having brought George back now.

George had moved to a smaller flat after the death of his brother, claiming that all the space in the old home had made him nervous and ill. Whatever made him nervous and ill, Lee was sure it wasn't the oversized bed, the enormous whirlpool or the Fitness center. If Lee had something like that, he would probably forget the _meaning _of nervous and ill.

The fact that the new home was smaller than the old one didn't mean it wasn't luxurious. The guy had far too much money to live without a whirlpool. And fitness. And oversized beds.

On his way to the above mentioned flat, it began to rain. Lee cursed his bad luck and began to run. It wasn't until he was standing in front of the door that he remembered Apparition. What a glorious day.

The doorbell played the melody of the number-one-hit "Merlin, Merlin, where's my wine" and Lee almost smiled… until he remembered that it was probably too true in George's case. He just hoped he wasn't too late and that he wouldn't have to visit one of those support groups full of nerds just to help George... _Hello, my name is George, and I'm addicted to the booze because my twin died. _Hello, George.

After ten minutes of standing in the rain, Lee thought that it would probably never come to a reunion with George because he had already died in the shower or the cupboard, the blood everywhere, and no one had noticed and they had called Lee because no one answered when they tried to contact the ginger.

"GEORGE." Lee said, as loud as he could. If the bastard was there (and alive), he had no right to waste Lee's time by ignoring him. Because he came from goddamn Australia to help. Goddammit.

Another ten minutes. Then: "Lee, is that you?"

"Not for much longer if you don't open the bloody door, Merlin, I'm _freezing_.."

The door opened.

"Wow.. That was easy. And they all said you didn't want to see anyone.."

George looked horrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes were red and in his hand he held nothing other than an almost empty bottle of vodka.

He frowned.

"They sent _you_? Of all people. My, they must be really desperate."

"Thanks. You just made my day."

The corner of George's mouth twitched.

"Let me in, you bastard."

"m'kay."

Because Lee had already called _George's_ condition horrible, he was out of words when he saw the flat.

"Dear Heavens, Don't you have money for a cleaner or something?"

"Didn't want to have someone in here."

"You prefer to be eaten by cockroaches, I understand." The thought made Lee shiver.

George sighed and sat down on the sofa. "Lee, what do you want?"

When had George become serious? Lee began to understand the Weasley's concern.

"Is it so bad to visit an old friend?"

"Yes, when you're only doing it because my dad or my brother or I-don't-care-who sent you."

"Well, I was in Australia, had they not informed me, I wouldn't know about.."

"Informed you about what?"

Lee groaned. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He had absolutely no idea what was going to make George even a little bit better. He should really drop this topic.

"Stand up, George, we're going to go out." Lee stated, with what he hoped to be enthusiasm in his voice.

George looked as if he had seen a ghost. "You gonna bring me to them? Are you mad?"

"Of course not. Im going to eat some fries and you _are going to join me_." Lee hoped he didn't sound too ridiculous when trying to be strict. George stared at him as if he had grown a second nose. Then he nodded.

If Lee had been asked, he would have admitted that he hated fries. He hated them more than any other food on this earth. But he ate them. For George, he told himself, for George! He didn't even remember why he had forced his best friend to eat fries with him. Why fries? They had been the first thing that came to his mind when he thought of food. Probably because he disliked them that much. George however didn't seem to mind. He ate as if he hadn't eaten anything for a whole week. Which was probably true.

Concerned, Lee watched his friend more closely. He was a bit skinny… and he had grown. Those Weasleys, they never stopped to get taller and taller. It amazed Lee every single time he noticed it, especially since their father was so dwarf-like. A strand of red hair had fallen into the freckled face, but George did not seem to bother. Lee suppressed the impulse to tuck it behind his friend's ear. Partly because that would be a little weird, and partly because - well - the lack of ear.

Lee caught himself in a state of surprise. Lack of ear. Right. There was no ear. He hadn't really noticed because George's hair was covering it most of the time, but now that he thought about it..

"Why're you staring at me like that? Eat your fries, Lee.."

"I just noticed I'm not hungry anymore."

"Could the reason be that you hate fries to death?"

"How do you now?"

"I went to school with you for seven years."

Lee chuckled. There was the George he knew. With or without ear.

George had finished his third plate when he asked: "You're not going to ask me?"

"What?"

"Why I'm doing all this? And _not _doing all that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about" Lee said, quite honestly.

"You can't fool me… You want to talk about Fred, don't you?"

"No, not really." Lee wouldn't know what to say anyway.

That seemed to surprise George. He was quiet for some time and stared out of the window. Lee used the silence to properly look at the restaurant they were in. It was old but very clean, which was always a plus when it came to Lee and the only waiter was very old, but polite. Lee liked places like these, even If they served fries.

"Then what do you want?"

"God, George. What I want? I just want to do something with you. Eat some fries, you know."

"You are a terrible liar, Lee."

"That might be right but I will not answer your silly questions either way, understood?"

"Don't act so bossy, 's ridiculous…" George sounded upset and Lee knew he had won.

After George had finally finished eating, they took a long walk through the streets of Muggle London. Lee kept quiet because he didn't know what he was supposed to talk about with this person who had an aura around him that could only be described as horrible. Lee could almost _smell _the depression. Or whatever it was. "You should shower." Lee said. "Honestly, you stink."

"Charming as ever, good old Lee" Fred replied, sarcasm dropping from his pointy nose.

Was it a good sign that George called him good old Lee? It sounded nice to Lee's ears. As if he was that special kind of friend you would always rely on. All of a sudden, George stopped walking. "Let's go back, I'm exhausted." Lee raised an eyebrow. George stank, yes, but he didn't look exhausted at all. But if he wanted to go home, he might as well do so. Moreover, Lee was a bit proud that George had indirectly requested Lee to accompany him home. It seemed like an achievement.

"Sure, I'll apparate us back. If you don't mind."

"I can't anyway, my wand is at home."

Oh, so that was the reason. Disappointed, Lee grabbed his friends' arm roughly and Apparated them back. Who didn't take their wand with them when they went out anyway. Voldemort may begone, but there was still a lot of Mundunguses out there.

Lee used the time George was showering to clean up the flat a bit. From all the practice, he had actually become quite good at cleaning. When George was finished, he helped without saying a word. After two hours, the flat was clean and the two decided to watch some television. Muggle TV had always been something they found ridiculously amusing and entertaining, and that hadn't changed one bit. Lee laughed himself silly even through the weather forecast. George was quiet, staring into empty space. Which was depressing.

"Go and dry your hair." Lee said, not averting his eyes from the television.

This seemed to revive George. Angered, he said: "Are you my mum or something?"

"Just a caring friend."

"Pfft, caring. You just want the TV for yourself"

"I _have _the tellie for myself since you don't even seem to be watching."

"I'm tired. Besides, no one in their right mind says tellie instead of TV."

"Go sleep."

"No."

"Go dry your hair."

"You are annoying, do you know that?"

"I'll stop being annoying if you stop being childish and go dry your hair."

George sighed and left the room. Lee thought about his friend's behavior and suddenly the image of George with the vodka bottle in hand flashed before his eyes. How could he have forgotten! George had started drinking! He got up and began to search quietly through his friend's kitchen, only to be proven right. He found a few bottles of fire whiskey, which he took outside and threw into the neighbour's bin. Feeling better, he returned to the living room where he found George looking furious. "What did you just do?" he asked. "Got rid of the trash." Lee stated, feigning innocence.

George shut up and sat down on the couch again. Lee wasted five minutes trying to figure out why his friend was angry. Had he seen Lee throwing away all his precious alcohol? Before he could think any more about it, he was distracted once again by the fascinating muggle device: "Look, the guy on TV looks like Professor Sprout."

Time with George passed quickly. Lee had been allowed to stay in his friend's flat and sleep on the couch. It was bloody uncomfortable, but Lee did not mind that much. He had gotten used to this kind of bedding on his world tour. No wonder – he always slept in the cheapest hotels. He wanted to save his money for the woman of his dreams.

They stood up whenever Lee woke up, since George could sleep for 34 hours straight without moving once. Lee always feared his friend might be dead when he walked into his room and found him lying completely still.

A glass of water always woke him up though. Cold water. In the face. Lee quite enjoyed that.

Their days were mostly spent with taking walks, cleaning up and paying the bills that were piling up on the kitchen counter. Not that George did not have the money, he was just far too wrapped up in his bubble to think about anything.

However Lee did realize that they could not go on like this for much longer since Arthur (or rather, Molly) sent more letters than Lee had thought possible. Lee hadn't opened any of them, he knew what the Weasleys wanted to know and what they wanted him to do. He and George trashed them in silence. Lee knew that if he'd visit Arthur or Percy to tell them what was going on, George would feel betrayed.

"Lee, it appears you have trashed my collection of firewhiskey and vodka." George was leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen, all arms-crossed and eyebrows-raised.

Sharply drawing in his breath, Lee pretended to be very absorbed by the Quibbler her was reading. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." he lied, scratching the back of his head guiltily.

"Don't play innocent. You thought I was a drinker and got rid of them the first day, didn't you?"

Feeling found out on, Lee gave his best to shrug it off. "I might have.."

"You idiot. I spent more money on that than you ever had in your life!" George's face didn't seem angry at all. It was more like.. tired amusement.

"You greeted me with a battle of vodka in hand, I was worried! Besides, don't talk about money, it ruins the mood." Lee could feel the color rushing to his ears.

"There was water in there… I didn't have any other empty bottles and didn't want to leave the house to buy new ones. I wasn't drunk when you came and I don't remember having looked for my alcohol before today. An alcoholic would have done that already."

Lee needed some time to understand what George meant, then began to laugh.

"You know I'm not the best with logic." he admitted sheepishly.

"Or with thinking in general." George sighed.

"Yes." Lee nodded, trying his best charming smile. He just hoped he would not need to pay for those bloody bottles.

It was quiet for a few moments, and George looked thoughtful. Then, suddenly, he lifted his hand and ruffled Lee's hair. And laughed. Just like that. Feeling drunken with happiness, Lee starting laughing as well.

This was the first time George was like in the old times, smiling, laughing, being rational while Lee wasn't. Then, all of a sudden, George stopped. And a serious expression ghosted over his face. "Thank you."

It was a few days after that that they talked about a reunion with the Weasleys for the first time. George had been absent-minded since morning and Lee was beginning to worry.

"What are you thinking about, man? You're looking all serious." He tried to sound as casual as possible while searching for the TV remote. George was lazing around on the couch, staring at some (very pink) book without really reading it.

"'m thinking about my parents. And Ron and Percy an-"

"Don't list the names of all your siblings or we'll still be here tommorow." Lee joked nervously.

George threw a pillow at him. "Idiot."

Silence, then: "I think I wasn't fair with them."

"Hm."

"Maybe I should talk to them sometime."

"Maybe you should." Lee congratulated himself on the thoughtful comments.

"But I don't think I'm ready for the questions."

"Then write a letter instead. I'm getting tired of almost drowning in letters every morning."

"Me too.."

George took some time to stare at his book.

"What are you reading?" Lee asked. The book was a shade of pink.

"One of your books."

Shocked, Lee came out from under the sofa – where he had, seconds ago, finally found the remote control – and stared at his friend. "What?"

Amused, George showed him the cover – 'The Love Journal of Heather Heatherton'.

"It's funny how the male character is so much like you.."

Blushing furiously, Lee took the book from Fred and threw it across the room.

"That's coincidence!"

"It's not. Wait a second." George got up from the couch and picked up the book. He searched through the pages, then read out loud: "The man was about twenty, dark-skinned and well-trained. His hair was dark brown and cut short in the back, but left long in the front. His eyes were dark and full of mystery, his lips full and promising. All in all, he was more handsome than any other man Heather Heatherton had ever seen in her life."

"That guy is a product of my imagination!"

"Yes, part of him. The handsome part. Hairstyle and skin-colour are the same. You're the gorgeous, mysterious hero in this story.. You try to at least look cool in fiction if you can't look cool in reality, eh?"

"You're mean! Don't laugh at the way I make my money!" Lee tried to defend himself.

"Some people actually buy this crap? How did you come to think 'Heather Heatherton' was a good name for the main character of a story?"

Lee pouted. This was mean. He picked up pillows and threw them at his friend.

George laughed and caught them, quoting from the book every now and then. And Lee didn't mind that much after all because George was laughing, and that was good.

When they got tired, they settled in front of the TV and watched a thriller.

They made fun of the bad acting and of muggles for enjoying this crap until they were almost completely falling asleep on the couch.

"I'll write a letter tomorrow." George whispered.

Lee yawned and closed his eyes. "Whatever."

George started writing the moment he got up and Lee decided to go buy some food to give George some privacy. On the way out, he registered a pile of letters in front of the door. He sighed, and put them in alphabetical order before he trashed them.

When he came back, George was asleep on the table and had spilled ink all over the parchment.

With a loud groan, Lee stored the food in the fridge and woke George up with a blow to the head.

Confused, his friend took some time to take in his surroundings.

"Oops."

"Oops my arse, you managed to get ink all over yourself and, what's worse, all over the carpet.. Guess you can trash that one now, git."

"Who cares? Did I manage to write something before I fell asleep?"

Lee searched through the dirty papers. "No."

"Shit.."

"It's not that difficult, you know. Just write you're alright and that you'll contact them once you feel like meeting them."

"You think that's enough?"

"No, but it'll do. Now hurry, there are dozens of letters in the corridor. I'll prepare breakfast and you'll tidy that shit up.. But finish this letter first."

"Aye, Mum."

Chuckling, Lee went back into the kitchen and made pancakes. He really felt good lately, and he had a feeling George did, too. Of course the redhead was still thinking of his brother and was still spacing out sometimes, but he laughed a lot more than a few weeks ago and he healed a little bit more every day. It was making Lee feel wonderful and he had almost completely forgotten his given-up world journey. Spending time with his best friend was so much better after all.

George finished his work quickly and they ate, sharing some memories of Hogwarts and the old times. George was still uncomfortable talking about his brother, but he got used to it the more they talked like that. He had relaxed some, and told Lee about a few pranks the twins had pulled on the professors.

When they had finished eating, Lee went to shower.

And all of a sudden he noticed that there was not a single mirror in the whole flat.

And he realized they still had a long way to go.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, So I was planning to finish this story in two parts, but that kind of didn't work. So it'll be three. Like, a trilogy. Or something. I hope.

I'd love to hear your suggestions, thoughts, anything that's on your mind really! If you see any mistakes, e.g. if I called George a she or a Fred by mistake, or messed up my grammar, don't hesitate to tell me.

Lee couldn't sleep that night. He was too busy trying to figure out what to do about the mirrors. Or lack thereof. If George couldn't stand looking at himself because he looked so much like Fred… maybe a new haircut would help? Or would it be better to just let the redhead be and give him the opportunity to find a solution by himself? Lee shook his head – George didn't do well on his own, the months after his twin's death had shown that all too well.

When he finally did find sleep, the sun was already up, and Lee didn't wake up until noon. He cursed himself and threw away his covers to wake George up… who was most likely still sleeping.

On his way to George's bedroom, Lee glanced into the corridor to see whether or not the flood of letters had stopped. It had. Somehow relieved – he hadn't _really _believed that a single letter would convince the Weasleys to stay silent – he knocked on Georges door. He hadn't given up hope that one day George would wake up by himself. He started feeling like a mother hen because he had to throw his friend out of the bed every single morning.

Noone answered. Lee sighed, and opened the door to find a sleeping George. He was laying on his back, hands folded, wasn't snoring. It was kind of creepy. He could be dead and Lee wouldn't see the difference.

Lee picked up the glass of water on Freds bedside cabinet and emptied it on his friends' face.

"Wake up, git, it's already noon and we have to go to the hair stylist."

George didn't react at first. After a few seconds though, he opened one eye and studied Lee. "Hairstylist? Have you gone mad? Why don't you just use your wand?"

He seemed to have gotten used to having a wet face when waking up by now. That was kind of annoying.

"Because I'm not a hairstylist? Those people studied the art of cutting hair, they know what they're doing! Besides, you don't want your hair cut by me.. Just imagine the disaster!"

George sat up slowly, still not entirely awake. "The _art_ of cutting hair? You _must _have gone mad!"

Then :"Wait – me? Whats wrong with my hair?" He picked up one of the reddish strands and looked at it closely. "It's just fine!"

"No it's not, it's almost as long as Charlie's and since you haven't cut it in ages it looks like crap. There's no way around it, man. We'll cut it shorter than it ever was! You'll look like a real man! You'll have better chances with the ladies an-"

"Okay okay I'll come with you but stop ranting. You sound like a woman, man.."

Lee knew his friend was right but sneered nevertheless. "Shut up and dress.. I've made appointment with _Carly _at 4. It's half past 3."

"Why are you still in here then? I don't need you watching me undress, git."

"I'm already gone, man, calm down.."

"Calm down?"

Lee hurried outside and shut the door with a grin before his friend could become really angry. At least he had gotten George to agree.

_Carly_ was without doubt the girliest spot on earth. Everything in it was pink - the walls, the floor, the mirrors, the shampoo, the employees.

A small woman with pink hair greeted them. She was dressed in a pink robe and sported pink nails with hearts on them. It was kind of frightening. "Welcome to _Carly_, mister and mister. Have you made an appointment?"

Lee nodded and managed to grab Georges jacket just in time to keep him from running. "Lee Jordan.. That's George." "I see, yes… please wait in the corner with the pink chairs until you're called. Could I bring you some juice?" Lee shook his head, afraid they would have found a way to make the juice pink as well.

He dragged George to a few chairs in a corner (Every chair in this bloody place was pink, so he just went for those that were free.) and sat down. Turning to George, he waited for his friend to start complaining but George just stood there, looking around with an expression that was a mixture of fear and disgust.

"Aren't you gonna sit down?"

"No."

"Aren't you gonna say something like 'Oh my god how could you do this to me' or 'I'll kill you when we get home' or something?"

"No."

That made Lee feel kind of bad. It would have been a lot more calming to have his friend throw a fit or something.

"Lee Jordan, please." Said a good-looking (but very pink) woman that had just approached the corner with the chairs. Lee jumped out of his seat. "That's me!" he exclaimed, trying his best to smile charmingly. The woman raised one eyebrow. "Well then, Lee, please follow me."

Lee couldn't stop his feet from walking but was held back by a firm grip on his jacket. "Lee."

Lee sighed. "Yeah, right. Sorry, miss, but the appointment was made for George here. He needs really short hair. I mean, really short. Not bald, you see, but short. Kind of military-ish." he ranted, very aware of the fact he was talking to a girl. A proper girl.

The woman raised a nicely-shaped eyebrow and turned around. "Well then, George or Lee or whoever wants his hair cut. Follow me."

When George came back to the pink corner with the pink chairs, Lee didn't recognise him at first. His hair had been shoulder-length when he left and was now completely cut short.

It was surprising, really, but George did have a nice face. Even though the new hairstyle kind of highlighted the hole where one ear should have been, he did look rather attractive. He would surely be popular with the ladies now. Yet again, George had always been a girl-magnet, Lee contemplated with only a little bit of jealousy.

"That girl did well, man, you look good."

George stared at him. "You think so? Personally, I think I look like a shaven poodle."

"No! That's perfect!" Lee couldn't help it – he had got exactly what he had hoped for.

"Didn't know you were into dogs." George muttered under his breath. "I'll go pay."

Lee followed George to the counter with the pink woman behind it, staring absent-mindedly at the back of his friend's head. Then, he pushed George out of the way and pulled out his wallet.

"Why are you paying for my haircut, Lee. You're dead poor."

"Why thank you, my friend, but I think I have just about enough money for this. Besides, I'm so happy that I really don't care."

Lee noticed with satisfaction that George gaped a little. The lady in front of them smiled, showing crisp white teeth. "You two are so cute! It's so nice of you to care for each other like that. It's a pity you're gay, I'd invite you for a drink."

Lee coughed awkwardly and if George's ear had a dangerously red colour. "We're not gay, miss." Lee tried.

The woman's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry, sweethearts! No offence!"

George nodded. "None taken."

They left the pink place in silence. They went to a restaurant in silence. They ate in silence. They paid and left in silence. It was kind of annoying.

"George?" Lee asked nervously.

"Yeah?"

"Let's forget about the whole thing. I'm sorry. It was a bad idea to go to that place. I didn't know it would be all pink and stuff. Probably only gay people go there. I mean, it said in the ad it was cozy. Cozy is good right? It's not really my fault they don't warn their costumers beforehand, I mean -"

"It really doesn't matter, Lee. It's just that I feel kind of strange. As if a part of me was taken away with the hair." George interrupted.

Lee realised that George didn't look so thoughtful because of the gay thing but because of his brother. He wished it were otherwise. "I understand. But, you know, this is the beginning of a new way of life. I may have forced it on you but you'll be happy…. Eventually. And it looks quite nice, I might add."

George laughed, a rich sound that Lee couldn't get enough of.

"You're an idiot, Lee."

Lee smiled happily. "Ain't I?"

The streets of Diagon Alley were full of people that day. The two friends took their time to look closely at each shop, bought sweets and talked. The sun had decided it would be a good idea to show its face for once and altogether, it was a bloody nice day.

Well, it was until they met Molly Weasley.

They were innocently walking down the street when all of a sudden, George was embraced by something very _big _and very _red_.

"Georgie!"

Lee stared at her in pure horror. Why now? It had all went so well!

George patted her back awkwardly. "Mum."

Molly let go of him eventually, tears in her eyes. "I finally get to see you again! And you look so good with that new haircut of yours! You're finally out of that flat again, I saw you smiling just a moment ago, god, is this a dream? You can't imagine how happy I am I'll call Arthur and we'll go and eat somewhere, we-"

"Mum, please leave it be."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you in the letter that I need some time, I can't-"

"George!" Someone exclaimed. Lee felt like crying.

"Ron…" Another hug. George looked kind of sad again. And that hurt.

"You're here! I can't believe it, I'll go get Hermione, we'll have to celebrate, Mum, can you believe it, I mean he-"

"Stop it, Ron." Lee couldn't help it, it kind of slipped out.

Ron stared at him, confused, hurt. Lee didn't care. "George needs more time – you can't just come over here and force him to talk! He told you in the letter he'll tell you when he's ready, please be patient." he pleaded, grabbing George's wrist and pulling him away from the ginger evil.

"But-" Ron started, but Molly stopped him. "He's probably right, Ronnie. Let's just leave them alone.."

George looked disturbed. He didn't say anything. Molly looked at him, patted his cheek. "I'm sorry George. Just know that you can always come to us, we'll be there, waiting for you."

And George looked at his feet. "Yes, mum. Thank you."

They stood there for a long time after the Weasleys were gone. George stared at his shoes and Lee didn't know what to do. He felt alone all of a sudden, he felt that all the responsibility was just too much for him. It wasn't fair that he was expected to repair George. Noone knew how, and Lee didn't think he knew how either. He just knew that George was hurt again now.

Desperate, he pulled his friend into a hug. George sighed. "That was too soon."

"I know, George, but it can't be helped. They were so happy to see you because they love you very much. You have to understand."

George mumbled something or other and nuzzled his face into Lee's neck. Lee felt something jump in his chest.

They let go and smiled at each other. A nice warmth filled Lee from the inside.

"You know what?" he asked, somewhat giddy from the hug. Not that he would have admitted that.

"Hm?" George asked, his pale blue eyes meeting Lee's with a spark of interest in them.

Lee gulped, suddenly not so sure what he was going to say. "Let's go home." He murmured, and, to avoid George's questioning look, he grabbed the others arm and side-along apparated them onto the doorstep of the redhead's flat.

They entered in silence, and Lee fled to the bathroom. He needed a shower. Preferably cold.

"George?" Lee shouted, some two hours after that, standing in the middle of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and a shaver in his hand.

"What?" came a muffled cry from somewhere, probably the couch.

"How am I supposed to shave without a mirror?" Lee tried, having decided that feigning obliviousness might be a good way to avoid a serious discussion.

There was a meaningful silence. Lee bit his lip nervously. Then, he felt a rush of guilt and realised he was stupid. He swallowed, took the last few steps to the bathroom door and stepped into the living room. He spotted George sitting on the couch, seemingly frozen in time, staring at the wall.

Lee cleared his throat awkwardly. "Er.." he said intelligently. "Sorry. I mean. You know. That was kind of… stupid. You know, I shouldn't have asked that."

George didn't turn around. "Whatever." He said quietly.

Lee grimaced, and approached the nearest chair. "Talk to me?" he asked, knowing that his voice sounded a little bit scared.

George looked everywhere but at Lee. "It's just that.." he started. "Whenever I see myself in the mirror, I have to think of.." he stopped, squinting. "You know. And I just can't…" it was obvious he was looking for words but didn't find any.

His fist shot down on the wooden table in front of him. "How the fuck am I supposed to talk about this?" he shouted, getting up abruptly. He looked at Lee, hurt, and suddenly, a little bit flustered.

"And why the fuck are you naked?" he asked, dumbstruck.

"I am not naked. I am wearing a towel." Lee answered in a serious, know-it-all tone.

George raised one eyebrow, but his rage was gone. He sat down on the couch again.

He looked thoughtful. "I think that I just can't stand that, whenever I look into the mirror, I see a poor shadow of myself. I mean, this doesn't sound right – I mean, I feel like – I am just not myself without Fred here. I never imagined living without him, heck, I probably would have spent the rest of my life with the git if he hadn't… What am I saying?" he looks up at Lee, his blue eyes cloudy. "I just feel like shit when I look at him. Photographs, a mirror, every time I see him I just want to curl up and hide away." He trailed off, swallowing hard.

Lee bit his lip. George mustered him, and a grin suddenly split his face.

"You know, just telling you this makes me feel how ridiculous it all is." George said quietly.

Lee looked up with a frown on his face, not quite understanding what was going on. He sent George a questioning look but received nothing but a shrug in return. "I don't know either." His friend said, and smiled again.

Lee was too happy to see George smile to realise that the redhead had just gone from really angry to really sad to really happy in about five minutes.

"Let's go drink." Lee suggested with a shrug, and George was all too happy to comply. The booze had never solved any of his problems, but Lee liked to pretend.

The pub Lee found himself in was Muggle through and through and so _dirty _that George had to convince him for at least twenty minutes to even sit down. The bartender was a guy with only one eyebrow and a ring connecting his nostrils, but altogether a very agreeable person because he left them alone and served them alcohol.

Apart from them, there was not much going on in the place, but Lee didn't mind terribly because watching George get drunk was very entertaining. All Weasleys were shite at drinking, mainly because they had enough idiocy going on already in a sober state.

Upon arriving, George had made friends with the Bull-slash-Bartender and bought an entire bottle of Tequila. "No, I don't need a glass. Thank you." Lee supposed he should have been worried, but it had been his idea in the first place and he supposed that it didn't hurt all that much to get wasted once in a while.

"I'm not carrying you home though." Lee said, eyeing the dusty bottle suspiciously.

George pouted mockingly. "And here I was thinking you'd carry me bridal style all the way back to the flat, put me into bed and sing me a lullaby."

Unfortunately, that was exactly how it turned out. Minus the lullaby. After about one and a half hours, George had declared his love for Quidditch about five times, his love for Ronald's freckles twice, had additionally enlightened Lee on his hate for blondes and his affection for blacks, including Lee, and passed out. His head met the wooden bar with a loud thump. Lee, who still had a very clear head due to the gag reflex he had to suppress every time he even looked that dusty bottle, sighed meaningfully. Fate was a bitch.

The Eyebrow guy came over to tell him that passed-out people were very bad publicity and asked him with a deep voice whether it was by all means possible that they left. Only he asked it a little bit less polite, maybe.

Lee put an arm around George to help him stand, but the guy was knocked out completely. Very conscious of the bartender's dark eyes on him, Lee sighed and submitted to his fate. Pulling George's legs up, he lifted his friend off the stool and made his way to the door. By the time he had taken about two steps, his arms were going numb and there was no air in his lungs, but the heavy breathing from behind him suggested a very angry bartender. A guy carrying another guy bridal style apparently was not very good publicity either.

When he reached the door, he kicked it open with George's feet and breathed in the fresh night air. Mixed with the foul smell coming out of George's mouth. Nice.

Lee scanned the area for a good area to apparate. He rounded the pub slowly and painfully, stopping by the waste containers.

"Fuck this" he mumbled breathless, and felt the pull of apparition squeeze the last air out of his lungs.

In front of George's flat, Lee set George down and searched the redhead's pockets for the key. When he found nothing but a sticky, suspicious-looking sweet, he felt the urge to kill someone. Preferably someone with a lot of freckles, red hair and a missing ear.

Lee cursed under his breath and stared at the door.

Ah.

He crouched down in front of George and slapped his right cheeks. "Wake up, bastard." He mutters, and a very clouded, unfocused blue eye opens. "Hmm?"

"What the fuck is the fucking code to your fucking door?" Lee cursed, continuing to slap George.

"0205199820" George mumbled, trying to catch Lee's hand but apparently seeing a lot more hands than one as he kept missing it. "S-stop – slapping.." he babbled.

Lee felt like knocking him out again but didn't, because he didn't feel like carrying the git again. Instead, he typed the code into the fancy machine by the side of the door and pushed the thing open. He helped George to get up, supporting almost all of the other's weight, and transported him into his bedroom. Lee pushed the other onto his oversized bed and set out to leave, when a very blurry voice held him back.

"D'you know" George mumbled, his eyes closed, apparently very close to falling asleep. "Code - .. Code is Fred."

Lee frowned. "Right." He said, unintelligently. He didn't really get it.

George snored. Lee groaned, and left the room. He grabbed a slip of paper and wrote down the code for the door. He tried Fred's date of birth, but that's not it, and anyway, they were born on the same day, before it dawned on him.

On the Second of May, 1998, Fred had died at the age of 20. And Lee felt a lump in his throat. Damn it all. He got up, and went back into his friend's bedroom. George's mouth was wide open and he snored, he smelled like alcohol and sweat, but Lee still smiled a little at the sight. He gave George's forehead a pat and felt a little sentimental.

The next morning, Lee woke up from the sound of thunder and rain. He felt his heartbeat between his ears, and cursed. He was a sissy. He hated storms. More like, he was bloody scared of them. Wincing at the sound of a particularly loud growl, Lee got out of bed and hid under the table, his arms over his head. No-No-No-No-No chanted his brain in a never-ending rhythm, and he felt himself shiver like a wet dog.

After about half an hour, he was so thoroughly scared that he couldn't stand it anymore. He crawled carefully out from under the table and into the bathroom. He grabbed a potion from the cupboard and ran into George's bedroom, still very much aware of the monstrous sounds the sky made.

"Wake uppp" he urged with a panicky voice, shaking the redhead.

George groaned, and opened his mouth to say something, but Lee was faster and poured the hangover potion into the gap. "Swallow" he ordered, and George complied – didn't have much of a choice anyway. When George opened his eyes, Lee had already lifted the covers and slipped into the bed, curling into a tight ball at George's side.

"Don't tell me you're still scared of storms." George hummed after a while, his voice a little hoarse but containing a good deal of amusement.

Lee poked George's side but didn't bother to reply. George let out a pained chuckle, and suddenly, Lee felt strong arms pulling him up and into a sort-of bear hug. Lee whimpered slightly, ashamed at the sound just a second afterwards.

George's slight chuckle turned into outright laughter, but he didn't let go of Lee either way. Lee didn't really mind the mocking, because the warmth of the embrace kept him from listening too much to the sounds from outside. After a while, George became quiet and Lee closed his eyes, trying to relax.

They stayed like this until the rain stopped, and it was George who moved. Lee didn't mind all that much, and honestly, could have stayed in bed, all wrapped up around George, a little longer.

"I can smell myself." George mumbled, detangling himself from the embrace.

Lee sighed. "I wonder why." He muttered, but George had already left the room. Lee got up with a sigh and searched the kitchen for food. There were some eggs in the fridge, and Lee threw them into a pan with some bacon. Some situations required meat. This was one of them.

When George sat down at the kitchen table with a determined look on his face, Lee raised one eyebrow at him. George was wearing a sort of beige sweater and brown, leopard-patterned trousers. The guy had developed a seriously disturbing style after he'd made money. Despite the unconventional combination, Lee liked the way the sweater was somehow very _tight_. And didn't quite know what to make of that sentiment.

"It is quite impossible to shave without a mirror." George stated. "I think it might be time to-" he stopped, his nose twitching "-is that bacon?"

Lee wanted nothing more than to slam his head against the wall. "Yes, that is bacon. Continue your sentence and you'll get some." He tried, hoping blackmail would get George to resume talking about the mirrors. Not that bacon wasn't important. It was.

George looked confused for a second, but seemed to understand. "Ah, yes. Let me conclude. I was suggesting we buy some bloody mirrors."

Lee looked at his red-haired friend with something he hoped did not look too much like a scowl.

"I might be mistaken, but weren't you the Weasley that was shouting and moping yesterday when someone mentioned mirrors? I know there's a lot of you Weasleys, but –"

"Oh, shut up." George grinned, scratching the back of his head. "I know. But yesterday made me think that maybe the whole thing with the mirrors is a bit stupid. I mean, in the pink place – whatsthename?" "Carly" "Right, Carly, there, I didn't have any problem with seeing myself. Besides, I got this new haircut that makes me look like more like a man and less like Percy's brother. You know how he actually curls his hair every morning, it's -" George stopped himself, obviously very aware that he had taken to ranting.

"What I'm saying is, maybe we try. I mean, it's altogether just a bloody mirror, nothing more. Even though my face is not the nicest, I should be able to look at it, right?" George asked, and Lee knew that the redhead hated talking about stuff like this almost as much as he himself did.

"You do have a nice face." Lee muttered when he put the egg and bacon on two plates and had his back to George.

"What?" George asks, irritated.

"I said that you might want to cut your other ear off as well, for the symmetry." Lee joked with a mouth full of egg, putting a plate in front of George. George looked disturbingly green, but ate the bacon anyway.

"I think." George contemplated "That you have a problem."

Lee just shrugged, and concentrated on eating. Until he noticed George was staring. At him. "What?" Lee asked, not looking up from his bacon.

"Lee, I've wanted to ask you something." George said thoughtfully.

"Go on." Lee tried to calm himself. That sounded a little too serious.

"Why do you write love novels?"

Lee gaped. A little. "What?" He asked, hoping he'd misheard.

"I mean it." George said, meeting Lee's eyes with a determined blue-eyed stare. "Why d'you do it? As far as I'm concerned, there are three possible answers." He held up three fingers as if Lee was incapable of counting to three.

"One. You're a lonely, girly, sappy closet-romantic."

Lee gulped.

"Two. You're afraid you'll never get any if you don't pretend you're awfully sentimental."

Lee looked at his hands.

"Three. You were young and you needed the money."

Lee bit his lip, looked up, and saw George – still holding up three fingers – looking expectant.

"I'm thinking all three?" Lee answered quietly, poking the last bit of egg on his plate.

George broke out into uncontrollable laughter. "I knew it!" He managed between giggles. Yes, giggles. George was giggling. That was worse than the whole situation altogether.

"Heather Heatherton." He almost choked on the name of Lee's protagonist.

"Heather is a really nice person." Lee pouted, feeling a little bit embarrassed, but also, a little bit defensive of Heather. He'd come to like her.

"Is Heather, like, your dream girl or something?" George suddenly asked, with a surprisingly straight face.

Lee rolled his eyes. "If I'd tell you, you'd rip her apart."

The corner of George's mouth twisted again. "No, seriously, tell me."

"I don't think so. She's all shy and flushed. And seriously, the guy isn't that much like me either. He's intelligent and mysterious." Lee contemplated. "Really, I just write what those people want to hear. I just had to write five of those books and had enough money for my tour."

George looked doubtful. "Five of those books for one tour. I'd say that speaks for itself."

"What are you suggesting?" Lee scowled, pointing his knife threateningly into George's direction.

"I am suggesting you write one good book instead of five shit ones." George seemed unimpressed.

"Are you calling my books shit?"

"What kind of friend would that make me?" George asked, grinning furiously.

"A horrible one." Lee replied, looking glum.

"Your books are shite." George laughed, and Lee could have slapped himself, because George would have said that anyway. He looked at the fridge, avoiding George's mocking blue eyes. It was a nice fridge. But they were very nice blue eyes, too.

"Okay, okay. Sorry." George tried. "What I mean is that I read some of your books and I think you have some talent, but you're wasting it if you keep writing that sort of thing."

Lee snorted, shooting George a glare. "Basterd."

The Weasley in question held his hands up in defence. "I was just trying to make you feel better about yourself." He said, which made Lee consider slapping him again.

"I think I should tell Molly to come over, because _Georgie _is clearly feeling very good right now." He suggested sarcastically, dragging out the Georgie just as Molly had done the day before.

George grimaced. "I'd rather lick Percy's backside."

Lee had to suppress the urge to vomit. "That, my dear friend, is a whole new level of disturbing."

"Wait 'til you see him with his girlfriend." George snickered.

"_That _guy has a girlfriend?" Lee asked, suddenly feeling very small and ugly and stupid.

"Apparently." George answered, meeting Lee's gaze with mocking eyes. "When was the last time you got any?" he asked, and Lee sincerely hoped that this wasn't a serious question, because he wasn't really sure George wanted to hear the answer.

"Weren't you with Angelina after the war?" Lee asked, desperate for a change of topic. Apart from that, it kind of interested him. He had always liked Angelina at school, but she had gone out with Fred so there hadn't really been any chances. Not that there would have been anyway.

George shrugged. "We hit it off a few times, but she left when I got a little bit strange in the head."

Lee couldn't keep himself from chuckling. "You've always been strange in the head."

George rubbed the underside of his nose. "That's because Fred had the brains and I had - the rest."

"Which is suggesting you had nothing."

"Exactly my point."

George smiled carefully, and Lee noticed that they had just casually talked about Fred. Surely, that was a good sign.

"Is the Wizarding Wheezes Still there?" Lee suddenly asked.

George looked surprised, but nodded. "I closed it, but didn't want to sell the place before I was completely sure whether I wanted to continue it or not."

Lee considered this.

George didn't seem to like that topic of conversation and suggested: "Let's go out, okay?"

Lee's head jerked up, his heart rate quickening. "Pardon?"

George rolled his eyes, snorting. "I meant, let's go buy a mirror somewhere. Or more than one."

With a pout, Lee got up from his seat and snatched George's plate. "Idiot." He mumbled as he pulled out his wand and casted a quick cleaning spell. George just watched him, obviously amused. "You get all worked up because you think I ask you out? That's interesting."

Lee felt his ears redden. "Shut up, you ghoul. It was pure horror, nothing much else."

George just laughed, got up, and made for the door. Lee followed him, furiously biting the inside of his lip and wishing he were a little bit less of an idiot.


End file.
